The Lasting Legacy Of Delhi’s Priya Market

The Lasting Legacy Of Delhi’s Priya Market
Lalit Dalal

A friend of mine was quick to point out that this would be a hard piece to write. Without insight, this is just a tipping of the hat, a wave goodbye, a toast to the legacy of South Delhi’s Priya Market, he insinuated. What was the point of it anyway, he asked me, and why was I determined to take readers back in time, to when Priya Market was thriving? The responses to a simple Facebook post asking my friends what their favourite memory of this legendary complex in Vasant Vihar was, meant that I was onto something. A pre-PVR movie theatre where tickets were dirt cheap and, sometimes, the films were of the ‘late-night’ variety, India’s first ever McDonald’s, gol gappas topped with a splash of vodka, panwadis that stayed open late into the night, independent music venues, and the first ever puffs of hookah smoke – Priya Market was the cool aunt/uncle that would, once in a while, sneak you a sip of their cocktail when your parents weren’t looking. Now past its prime, it’s a reminder of Delhi’s pre-mall era, a different culture of going out and the perils of underage drinking; a rundown market that’s seen better days.

A late-night show at PVR Priya (I don’t remember the single screen that preceded it) meant that you’d walk out into a seedy lane, with a few stray dogs for company and a paan shop with its shutters down. The possibility of a pack of (overpriced) cigarettes would strengthen my resolve to knock on the shutters and, when a bleary-eyed man would slide them open just a few inches, ask for a packet of Classic Milds. It’s been a couple of years since I was back – my father prefers to plan movie nights at DLF Promenade in neighbouring Vasant Kunj, now. At least the parking isn’t a problem, he reasons. This article in The Hindu explores why Delhi fell out of love with Priya Market. In addition to the ease of parking at malls, it questions whether poor maintenance, a growing number of office spaces and the availability of a newer, shinier alternative contributed to its downfall. It’s entirely likely, and I couldn’t deep dive into a more concrete explanation for it anyway. Instead, here’s a look-back at how it influenced playlists, drinking culture, dating and a generation of ‘90s kids who’d sneak into the McDonald’s bathrooms to change out of their school uniforms and slip into something more suitable for a day bunk.

A shot of Priya Market. Photo credit: Busylizzielovestotravel

Its proximity to the embassies and ‘expat quality buildings’ meant that the residential colonies around Priya Market were full of NRIs and foreigners. In response, a Modern Bazaar opened up in the shopping complex, with shelves of ingredients that we’d otherwise have to wait on (delivered, most likely, by a relative who was coming into town). “Modern Bazaar was where you could score Tang and Mars chocolates, while Sugar & Spice would have honey glazed ham,” Parul Pratap (chef at Delhi’s Music and Mountains restaurant, and food writer) reminisces. Trips to Modern Bazaar were special for lots of us – I remember making a trip with my mother every time a dinner party was on the cards, to dress up the menu with things like dinner rolls, all the fixings of a cheese platter and a nice bottle of wine. We’d make a pit-stop at Nirula’s for some HCF (my uncle would insist on calling Hot Chocolate Fudge by its misleading acronym and now, I guess, it’s stuck). It was a sad day when Nirula’s left the building; CEO Amit Chadha told The Hindu that, “We moved out later, after the other brands. But we had to leave as the complex had become commercially unviable.”

The exodus that Chadha is referring to include the likes of Choko La, TGI Fridays and Punjabi By Nature (whose claim to fame is the creation of the lethal vodka gol gappas I so fondly talk about right at the beginning of this article). Arabian Nites seems to have stood the test of time and still serves some of the best doner kebabs in town – Sunaina Mullick, a journalist, “used to go there every other day for their doner kebabs” and confirms that the food is still amazing.

On the other hand, a hole-in-the-wall establishment ‘Susee Emu Rusee Emu’ (of which surprisingly little is known) wasn’t as lucky. Pawan Chopra, a resident of Delhi tells me that once upon a time, he’d feast on the emu meat tikkas and curries at this restaurant that lost out because the menu did not appeal to the masses, who’d prefer to dine at the TGI Fridays next door. Today, the gastronomical landscape of Priya Complex is dotted with run-of-the-mill chain restaurants like Pizza Hut, Domino’s, Dunkin Donuts, so if you do find yourself hungry in Vasant Vihar, follow the scent of freshly-roasted coffee to the newly-opened Blue Tokai cafe — which is also now the only place in the market that might rise up to the occasion of a first date.

However, 10 years ago, date night usually meant walking through the L-shaped market together, as hands would brush against each other every so often and the only investment you’d make was in conversation. Jayati Bhola, a journalist, tells me about how the steps of Priya were the setting for her first ever date, back in 2011. “Even now when I go to Priya’s, I always think of that cold night in February which gave me the warmest memories for years to follow.”

Modern Bazaar in Priya Market. Photo credit: Anand Mohapatra/LBB

First dates, first drinks – Priya Market is the kind of place that would feature prominently in coming-of-age films set in Delhi. Between the likes of RPM, Bacchus and Haze, access to alcohol was never a problem, in the same way that sobering up before curfew was. The stairway to RPM can take you back in time, where the liquor is cheap, the crowd is mixed (at best), the food is the only saving grace and it always smells like teen spirit. Take back RPM and give us Haze instead, I say. Raj Das (a digital content specialist) points out that, “At its peak, Priya complex had Haze, where Soulmate (Shillong-based ‘reclusive’ blues rock back with something of a cult following) performed regularly.” In fact, way before Delhi had venues like The Bar Cat (owner Karan Nambiar, co-incidentally, remembers the good ol’ days he spent at Bacchus) and The Piano Man, a lot of independent music acts found a stage at venues like Turquoise Cottage – in fact as Namrata Juneja (a freelance writer) remembers Priya as the place of “the OG Piano Man cafe”.

Of all the things we lost, the most heartbreaking was Fact & Fiction. Kabir Nanda (a Mumbai-based consultant who grew up in Vasant Vihar) thinks back to “the cool owner who’d listen to Led Zep every day and let you sit there and read”, while Sahaj Bhatia remembers it as the “independent bookstore that stood there for 30 years with an eclectic collection and a rare homely feel.” Kabir tells me that there’s some solace in the fact there are some second-hand book stalls right outside Priya markets with rare finds. Today, they function as regular shops but a few years ago, they’d double up as libraries and let you exchange books for Rs. 10 or 20 after you’d read them.

Haze Cafe Bar Restaurant. Photo credit: New-Delhi-Hotels

It has been a while since I’ve been back to the beloved market, that evokes so many memories in so many people. Perhaps it is because of the wide variety of interests it catered to – a good meal, a good book, a good drink or a good movie, many an idyllic evenings were spent at this complex by people with all kinds of hobbies. Bikram Bindra, a freelance food writer and ad man, succinctly summarises the charm of the complex, “20 years ago, Priya Vasant Vihar was one of the few places one could go to for a secret date, a school reunion and lots of underage drinking! It boasted of a quaint tea cafe, the largest Benetton store in the vicinity (predating Zara and H&M, of course), one of the few places to watch an English movie and a genuine milling and chilling experience.” In that very versatility lies its greatest appeal and, perhaps its downfall. Unable to keep up with the swanky malls and hipster neighbourhoods, Priya Market fell behind. You know what the point is, then? So many years past its prime, the mere mention of Priya Market throws up a collection of completely unique, personal and wonderful stories from Delhiwalas across all ages.

For some, Priya meant easy access to the world of books, for others it became a weekly pilgrimage to discover new music, but for all of us, it was (to whatever extent) a rite of passage – in a way that few other ‘markets’ could ever be.

Feature image courtesy Lalit Dalal.

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